


And the loving is easy when you're with me

by RabbitRunnah



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Established Relationship, Everything that can go wrong does go wrong, Future Fic, M/M, Travel nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-21 20:23:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14292744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RabbitRunnah/pseuds/RabbitRunnah
Summary: “How’d I get lucky enough to wake up next to you twice in one day?” Bittle asks, his voice still hoarse with sleep.Jack ticks the events of the day off on his fingers. “Five a.m. wakeup call. Delayed flight. Spilled coffee. Screaming baby. Turbulence. Wrong rental car …”“Okay, okay. Maybe luck has nothing to do with it, but I sure am glad you’re here.”Sometimes, the only good thing about a terrible day is spending it with the one you love.





	And the loving is easy when you're with me

Jack’s alarm goes off way too early.

It wouldn’t be early if this were an ordinary day during the season, one with scheduled workouts or games or travel. But it’s early May, the first day of Jack’s off-season, and the last thing he wants to do is get up before dawn to catch a flight.

But Bittle … Well, Jack loves Bittle, and Bittle loves his family, so if Bittle has to fly to Atlanta to be a groomsman in his cousin Cooper’s wedding, Jack will be the supportive boyfriend who goes along with him. Even if it means getting up before dawn on the first day off the off-season.

If he’s being honest with himself, being knocked out of the playoffs this year had come as almost a relief. He won’t be hoisting the Cup this year, and for the first time in a long time, he’s okay with that. Maybe it’s a sign of maturity. Or, maybe it’s just the growing realization that he’s almost 31, his body doesn’t bounce back from the stresses of the job quite as quickly as it used to, and hockey is no longer the most important thing in his life. (The most important thing in his life is asleep next to him, lightly snoring.) He knows he still has a few good years left in him, but lately retirement has become less of a hypothetical _if_ and more of a _when_. 

“Bits. Hey, Bits,” he says. He gives him a gentle poke in the ribs because by now Bittle’s trained himself to sleep through Jack’s alarm. “We have to get up. Flight leaves in a few hours.”

Bittle grumbles a little and buries his face in his pillow. 

“ _Bittle_. We have to get to the airport.” Jack scoots closer until his head rests on the same pillow. He drops a kiss onto his boyfriend’s nose.

Bittle opens his eyes. For a minute, they just stare at each other, blue eyes locked onto brown. Jack can feel his eyes cross a little. 

“How long’ve you been staring at me like that, Sweetpea?”

“Long enough.”

“Creeper.” 

“Tell me again why I’m up at 5 a.m. to go to a wedding for people I’ve never met.” 

Bittle huffs out a sigh. “I’m not exactly sure. Right now, there’s a 50-percent chance they asked me to be in it because Cooper’s fiancée has 12 bridesmaids and he ran out of frat brothers to be groomsmen, and a 50-percent chance that everybody just wants to meet ‘Little Dicky’s NHL Beefcake.’” 

“Is that what they call me?”

"NHL Beefcake? It’s better than Little Dicky. I hope you’re ready for all the embarrassing stories they’re going to tell about me as a little kid. You haven’t met most of this side of the family. They can be brutal.”

“Only fair. You’ve seen my baby pictures.”

“And you were the _cutest_ little kid.” Bittle’s face goes all soft when he says that. It’s the same look he has whenever he sees one of their friends or Jack’s teammates with a baby, and maybe that’s another reason Jack doesn’t mind so much that retirement looms ever closer.

“I wasn’t! I was awkward and chubby and I had to have surgery when I was a toddler because I had a lazy eye. I was an ugly little kid.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with being a little chubby and having a lazy eye, honey. Lots of little kids are awkward. Doesn’t mean they aren’t cute.”

“Yeah, but my parents were Bad Bob and Alicia Zimmermann. When I was a kid they made _People’s_ ‘Most Beautiful’ issue separately and as a couple. In multiple years. Imagine growing up with that and looking … like me. Imagine being 14 and reading the reporter’s _hope_ that genetics would prevail and I would ‘eventually grow into my looks.’”

“Pfft. Who even trusts the judgement of a magazine that keeps overlooking Idris Elba for Sexiest Man Alive? Not that your parents aren’t beautiful, sweetie, but you’re selling yourself short if you think you don’t belong right there with them.”

“Idris Elba, huh? So when you called me the sexiest man alive last week …”

“Hush, you,” Bitty says, pressing his lips to Jack’s. “Everybody in the world thinks he’s the sexiest man alive, don’t deny it. You’re _definitely_ the sexiest man in my bed.”

“Mmmmm … can’t be. Last I checked, you were in this bed with me.” Jack kisses the spot on Bittle’s neck, right above his shoulder, that always makes him shiver with desire.

“That’s the dorkiest joke I’ve ever heard,” Bittle says through his giggles as Jack continues to nibble at his neck. “And you can’t do that right now, you know what it does to me.”

“Not a joke,” Jack murmurs. 

“Jack! Come on, Jack, we can’t do this right now. We have to get up. We’re gonna miss our flight.”

“Oh, _now_ you want to get up.”

“Well, now I’m awake. And I am _not_ going to explain to everyone in my family that we missed our flight because we couldn’t get out of bed, mister.”

“God, you’re right. From the way you talk about them, they’ll never let us hear the end of it.”

“I _meant_ because I’m a Southern gentleman. But sure, if the prospect of being embarrassed in front of _my entire family_ motivates you to get that butt of yours out of bed, I won’t stop you.”

“A gentleman, eh? Does a Southern gentleman say the things you said last night?”

Bittle pulls the pillow out from under Jack’s head and thumps him with it. This kicks off a small scuffle, with Jack taking Bittle in a headlock and Bittle playfully biting at Jack’s arm.

“See,” Jack gasps out when they’re both breathless with laughter. “This is so much nicer than getting on a plane on my day off.”

“It is, but my mother will have our heads if we’re late for this wedding.” Bittle finally sits up.

“Do you want the first shower or should I go?” 

“You don’t want to go together?” Bittle smiles a little wickedly.

The offer is really tempting. Jack groans. “If you want to get out of the house on time, we should probably take separate showers.”

“I’ll shower first, you make coffee?” Jack nods. They get out of bed together, and the sight of Bittle undressing only distracts him for minute before he realizes they really do need to get moving because they’re in very real danger of missing their flight. At this rate, they’ll have to get coffee in the airport.

 

They don’t miss their flight. Their flight, it turns out, is still waiting for a pilot. An hour delay turns into two. 

“I need to text Mama and let her know we won’t be making the rehearsal luncheon,” Bittle says when the latest delay is announced.

“We should have flown in yesterday.”

“Cooper and Kacey,” Bittle says with a hint of disdain, “should have stuck to their original plan of having the rehearsal tonight and the ceremony tomorrow.”

“Yeah, what happened with that?”

“Mama says there was a last minute Friday night cancellation at the reception venue and they were able to get it for half price. Most of the family lives close enough that the date change doesn’t matter.”

Jack unfolds himself from the uncomfortable airport seat and stretches. “Do you want to take a walk?”

“Might as well. We still have half an hour before boarding.”

They walk up and down the terminal, stopping to get a package of trail mix to share in one of the gift shops. Bittle’s idly flipping through _Vanity Fair_ when they finally hear their boarding announcement. “Your mama’s in here,” he says. “They’re ‘obsessed’ with her this month.”

“Probably because she’s doing some big guest role on that FX show. The one with—”

“Yeah, she’s an entertainment lawyer.” Jack gapes at Bittle. “What? I do talk to her, you know. We Skyped all during your last playoff game. Your dad, too. Did you know he’s taking classes to become a Master Gardener?”

“Only because he keeps texting me pictures of his sunflowers. Let’s go, plane’s boarding.”

Of course they don’t get a row to themselves. Jack isn’t expecting a row to themselves, but he’s also not expecting a woman traveling solo with an infant to take the aisle seat next to him. 

“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes. She’s juggling the baby, a carry-on, and a diaper bag and looks completely overwhelmed. “I’ll buy you both drinks.”

“It’s no problem,” Bittle says, ever polite. “We like babies. This one sure is a cutie. What’s her name?”

“Her name’s — Oh!” the woman squats to pick up her baby’s pacifier and, in the process, the diaper bag slips off her shoulder. Jack catches it before it hits the ground.

“Thank you,” she says gratefully. “I’m Alison. And this is Emily.”

“Well, hello, Miss Emily,” Bittle says in the voice he reserves for babies and small animals. “I’m Eric, and this is Jack.” Emily squeals a little and waves a tiny fist in the air. 

“Is she your first?” Jack asks. "She's adorable." She really is, all chubby cheeks and blue eyes.

“First,” Alison says, “and first time flying alone with her. My husband flew out with us, and now we’re flying home while he stays on the East Coast for work.” 

“If you need to get up and stretch your legs,” Jack offers, “we can watch her.”

“ _Thank you_. I’m hoping she’ll just sleep through the flight. We’re already off her schedule because of the travel, and then there was the delay.” Alison shrugs and Emily gives Jack a gummy smile.

“At least it’s a short flight,” Bittle says. “We do this one a couple times a year. It’ll be over before you know it.”

Despite Bittle’s claim, Jack is positive this is the longest flight he’s ever been on. It might even be longer than the flight they took to Tahiti last summer. At least it feels that way.

Emily’s genial mood last approximately two minutes into the flight, when she begins to cry inconsolably. “It’s probably her ears,” Alison apologizes. “They say to try feeding her.” She pulls a bottle out of her diaper bag but the baby refuses it and just continues to writhe and cry in her mother’s arms.

An hour in, Emily grabs for the cup of coffee sitting on the tray in front of Jack and knocks it over into his lap before Alison can stop her.

“I am _so sorry_ ,” Alison apologizes. She looks near tears. “If one of you can hold her, I can get into my bag for some wipes to clean you up.”

Bittle takes the baby and makes a series of silly faces at her. It calms her down, a little. Jack dabs at his jeans with lavender-scented baby wipes while Alison cleans the tray.

“Are we there yet?” Jack deadpans.

It diffuses the tension, somewhat, and when Bittle hands the baby back to her mother everyone seems a little more relaxed.

They hit turbulence as the plane begins its descent into Atlanta.

Bittle’s in the middle of telling Alison the story of how he and Jack met when he abruptly stops talking. When Jack glances at him, his eyes are closed and he’s gone white. “Bits?”

A deep inhale. “I’m okay, honey. Just not feeling too well. This turbulence is something else.”

“Just try to breathe through it.” One of Jack’s teammates has a tendency to get sick on rough flights, and he’s talked him through it a number of times. “In and out. Deep breaths. There’s, um —” Jack fumbles in the seat pocket in front of him — “a bag if you need it.”

“I’ll be fine.” Bittle waves the bag away.

“I think we’re landing soon, the wheels just came down.”

“Just … stop talking, please.” Bittle keeps his eyes shut and grips the arm rest. Jack pats his hand reassuringly. Emily lets out an ear-piercing shriek. Alison sighs. When they’ve finally landed, and the rest of the passengers are scrambling to claim their carry-ons from the overhead bins, Jack just sits next to Bittle.

“Feeling well enough to get off?” he finally asks when everyone has finally disembarked. “I think they’re going to kick us off soon. We should find you some water.”

“Jack, I have the worst headache.”

“I know, bud. Let’s get the car and you can rest in the hotel.”

Bittle gets to his feet, a little unsteadily, and Jack hauls both of their carry-ons down from the bins. They follow the signs to the transportation that will take them to the rental car pickup. By the time they’re on the SkyTrain, a little of the color has returned to Bittle’s cheeks and he’s looking more like himself.

It stands to reason that the rental agency doesn’t have the car they reserved. Nothing else about this day has gone according to plan, why should this? “I’m so sorry,” the rental agent apologizes when Jack shows him their reservation. “We’re fresh out of full-size sedans. I can put you in —” she furiously taps at her keyboard — “a Chevy Aveo.”

“Is that the biggest vehicle you have?” Bittle asks.

“Unfortunately, it is. It’s graduation weekend for a lot of the schools around here and we’ve been busier than usual.”

“It’s fine,” Jack says, pulling out his credit card. “We just have carry-ons anyway.”

To Jack’s utter shock, the tiny car is surprisingly roomy on the inside. Bittle, who usually does the driving when they’re in Georgia, is still not looking great, so Jack takes the keys. “You smell like coffee and baby wipes,” Bittle says as he gingerly settles into the passenger seat.

“I know. I’ll change when we get to the hotel.”

“It’s making my headache worse.”

“I know.” Jack makes the turn out of the parking garage.

“I’m sorry I’m in such a crappy mood.” Bittle sounds truly miserable.

“Bits, you’re sick. Besides, you’ve seen me in far worse shape.”

“When you fractured your wrist two years ago? The way you were carrying on, anybody would've thought you were dying.”

“I was thinking of my knee last fall.”

“That too. Lord, you’re getting to be an old man.”

“I know. Hey, what’s the name of this hotel again?”

“Um …” Bittle pulls out his phone. “It’s the Lazy Days Inn and Suites, Airport. Shouldn’t be too far from here at all. We have to pick up my tux though.”

“Let’s check in so you can rest and I’ll pick it up for you.”

Bittle doesn’t say anything, just puts his hand on Jack’s knee and gives it a little squeeze. 

 

Check in, at least, goes relatively smoothly. They get into their room and Bittle collapses onto the bed, claiming he just needs some time to “shake this headache.” Jack changes into his clean pair of jeans (a lifetime of travel, at least, has taught him always to bring a spare change of clothes), and sends Suzanne and Coach a quick text to let them know they’re resting before the ceremony and will see them downstairs at five. Then he heads back out to get the tux.

The chain tuxedo rental shop is located in a strip mall about 20 minutes away. Bittle had his measurements taken at the Providence location and had them sent in, so really all Jack needs to do is pick it up. It should take five minutes, tops. Unfortunately, the sales clerk doesn’t part with it quite so easily.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I can’t release the suit to Mr. Bittle until he’s tried it on. Once you take it, we can no longer make alterations.”

“I’m Mr. Bittle’s partner, and he’s authorized me to pick up the suit for him because he’s sick in bed.”

“I’m sorry.” The man — Charles — shrugs apologetically. “It’s not our policy to release a rental without a proper fitting.”

“Yes, I understand, but … Look, what does it cost?”

“I’m sorry?”

“What does the tux cost? I’ll buy it.”

“Mr…”

“Zimmermann.”

“Mr. Zimmermann, I can’t sell you this tuxedo. It’s a rental.”

“All right then, what would you charge him if he forgets to return the suit by three p.m. on Monday? I think I read in this paperwork—” Jack waves the rental agreement Bittle signed at his fitting — “that he’d be responsible for ‘all applicable replacement fees.’ So, just charge me that and we’ll call it a day.”

“I’ll have to get a manager.”

The manager agrees to make an exception and allows Jack to take the suit on Bittle’s behalf. When he gets back to their room, suit in hand, the lights are out and the curtains are drawn closed. Bittle’s on the bed, a wash cloth covering his eyes.

“Bits?” Jack whispers. “How are you feeling, bud?

He doesn’t move, but he makes a pitiful noise. “I threw up.”

“Ah, well, are you feeling better now? I have your tux. Do you need anything else? Water? Advil?”

“What time is it?”

“It’s just after three. We’ve got two hours before we have to be downstairs to get ready for the ceremony.”

“Can you give me another half hour?”

“Yeah, you just rest.”

“Can you lie next to me and play with my hair?” 

Jack hangs the tux on the bathroom door, toes off his shoes, and lies down next to Bittle on the bed. “How much of this is just an act so I’ll play with your hair?” 

“Jack, I _threw up_ ,” Bittle whispers and okay, he must really not be feeling well, because if he were he’d have raised his voice in indignation.

Bittle’s hair is longer than it was when they started dating. It almost reminds him of the way he wore it years ago, when he was a frog. Yet tiny lines are just beginning to form in the corners of his eyes, a reminder that college was a long time ago. It’s an odd juxtaposition, and makes Jack think about how his past and future are tied up in Bittle. He runs his fingers through his hair until he hears his breathing even out, and then Jack must fall asleep too because he wakes with a start when Bittle stirs next to him.

“How’d I get lucky enough to wake up next to you twice in one day?” Bittle asks, his voice still hoarse with sleep.

Jack ticks the events of the day off on his fingers. “Five a.m. wakeup call. Delayed flight. Spilled coffee. Screaming baby. Turbulence. Wrong rental car …”

“Okay, okay. Maybe _luck_ has nothing to do with it, but I sure am glad you’re here.”

“You sound like you’re feeling better.”

“Head still hurts a little, but I think I’m good to go.” 

They get ready together in the small bathroom. Jack helps Bittle with his cufflinks and allows Bittle to help him with his tie, because even though he’s more than capable of tying his own tie, it's a ritual they both enjoy. “So handsome,” Bittle says when he stands back to look at him. After six years together, those words still thrill Jack to his core.

“You too. You more. Your suit fits really well. _Really_ well. Charles should see you in it. Or, no, I don’t want Charles to see you in it. I just want —”

“ _Jack_.” Bittle tugs him down for a kiss. “Let’s go.”

They take the elevator downstairs to the ballroom where the ceremony and reception are to be held. _Ballroom,_ Jack thinks, is a stretch. It’s little more than a conference room with some tables and folding chairs. But it’s been decorated nicely, with dark blue linens covering the tables and pretty centerpieces made from in-season flowers. One end of the room is set up for the ceremony and the head table is set up on the other. It looks like the guests will be seated around the dinner tables for the ceremony.

Suzanne and Coach spot them right away and head over. “You just made it,” Suzanne says, enveloping both of them in a hug. “Dicky, your daddy had to stand in for you at the rehearsal but it’ll be as easy as pie. Just make sure you talk to your cousin Cole before you go on out. He’s walking out right before you. You’ll be escorting Kacey’s sister Jenna in.”

“You should head back there soon,” Coach says. “Ceremony starts in a half hour. Jack, we’ve got a seat saved for you.” Jack’s about to follow them when a guy he doesn’t know approaches them.

“Cooper,” Bittle whispers for Jack’s benefit.

Cooper looks a lot like Bittle, but broader and taller and with darker hair. When he sees Bittle he grins and slaps him on the back. “Dicky! We were worried you wouldn’t get here.”

Bittle flinches a little at the unexpected contact, and Jack can’t help but think of checking practice. But Bittle shakes it off and smiles. “Cooper! Congratulations! Sorry we couldn’t make it for the rehearsal, but we had a heck of a travel day. Cooper, this is Jack.”

“Nice to meet you, man.” Rather than shake his hand, Cooper opts to slap Jack on the back, too. “Glad you could make it down for this. Haven’t seen much of Dicky since he moved up North.”

“Oh my lord, is this little Dicky?” A small woman appears out of nowhere and tackles all three men in a giant hug.

“Hi, Aunt Joanie,” Bittle says. “Have you met Jack?”

Aunt Joanie — who isn’t really Bittle’s aunt, just a close friend who went to school with the Bittles and Phelpses — stands back and looks Jack up and down. “Well, aren’t you a tall drink of water. No wonder Dicky insists on livin’ in sin up North.”

Jack can tell Bittle is struggling to keep a straight face. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says in his very best media voice. 

“You make sure you save a dance for me and Pepper, honey.” 

“Pepper?” As if on cue, a small poodle pops out of Aunt Joanie’s handbag.

“Now, I know you know Pepper because you get my Christmas cards. Pepper’s the baby.” Jack has a vague memory of receiving a holiday card with dogs dressed as sailors on it. Aunt Joanie winks at Jack and gives him a little pat on the ass. She’s gone before he has a chance to really process the moment.

“ _And_ ,” Cooper says, “you’ve just met Aunt Joanie. Come on, Dicky, we’re all meeting in the garden to take pictures. It’s good to meet you, Jack. Hope to talk more later. I bet Dicky hasn’t told you the story about the swimming hole and the catfish.”

As Bittle follows Cooper out, he turns back toward Jack and mouths “I told you.” 

The ceremony begins on schedule and is short and sweet. Once the bride and groom have made it to the front of the room and are flanked by all 24 bridesmaids and groomsmen, the officiant gives a short speech and allows them to exchange vows. Rings are exchanged and the officiant pronounces them man and wife then — because he’s apparently doing double duty as the DJ — reminds everyone to stay seated so dinner can be served.

Bittle takes the open seat between Jack and Suzanne. “You looked great out there, honey,” Suzanne says. “With all due respect to the groom, you were the most handsome man in that lineup.”

“I agree,” Jack says with a wink. He's pleased when Bittle blushes a little. 

Dinner is delayed. Toasts and speeches are given before the servers finally come around with plates of fried chicken cutlets, green beans, and mashed potatoes. Jack doesn’t really care what's being served, really, because as his plate is set in front of him he realizes he hasn’t eaten anything since he and Bittle shared that trail mix in the airport. He’s about to cut into his chicken when Bittle elbows him.

“Jack.” Bittle pokes him in the side. “ _Jack_. The middle of my chicken is frozen solid.” He taps his knife against the cutlet. It makes a dull thumping sound.

If anybody ever asks Jack why he left abruptly left a wedding reception at the Lazy Days Inn and Suites in Atlanta, he’ll point to this moment as the straw that broke the camel’s back. He holds his laughter in until he and Bittle are safely outside, and then he just lets go. They sit on a curb in the parking lot and lean against each other and laugh until their sides hurt.

“Jack, that’s not even the worst part,” Bittle says between giggles. “Right before the ceremony, Cooper told me he almost didn’t go through with it. He met up with his ex last night and she tried to talk him into going to Vegas with her. He almost did it. I remember her, she was the junior rodeo queen three years running when we were in high school.”

“So how long do you think this marriage will last?”

“I’m betting not long. Did you see the way Kacey was looking at her maid of honor?”

Jack chuckles. “At least,” he says, “your family makes mine seem normal.”

“Ain’t that the truth. I think I can deal with the media and eleven billion pictures of your dad’s garden if the alternative is this.”

They sit there for a minute until the humidity becomes too much for Jack in his suit. Six years together, and he’s still not used to the South. He doesn’t know if he ever will be. Bittle notices his growing discomfort. “I think there’s a bar across the street, Sweetpea. You want to get something to eat?”

Jack is a little more lax with his diet this early in the off-season, and after today chicken tenders and mozzarella sticks have never sounded so good. Coach and Suzanne find them when they’re halfway through the appetizer platter. “Next round’s on me,” Coach says, taking note of their empty beer glasses. He takes the seat next to Bittle and swipes an onion ring from the platter. Suzanne sits next to Jack. 

“We left before Joanie could rope me into a dance,” Coach says. “You two have the same idea?”

“It’s been a long day,” Bittle says. “I’m not one to skip out on dancing, but I think Jack and I just need to turn in early.”

“Us, too. We’re driving home tonight. Thought we’d say goodbye before we get on the road.”

Suzanne leans in closer. “I give this marriage five months. Did you see where the maid of honor’s hand was during the ceremony?”

“Oh my lord, _yes_!" Bittle's voice goes up an octave. "And did you hear Cooper was talking to Mandy Perkins just last night? ” 

“Little Mandy the rodeo queen? I heard she just got divorced for the second time.”

Coach just shakes his head and takes another sip of his beer. 

“Come with me to the car, Dicky. I want to give you some jam to take back.”

Bittle rolls his eyes. “Mama, we only brought carry-ons.”

“Oh, hush. It’s just a couple jars. I’ll give you more when you’re here for the Fourth.”

Bittle obediently follows Suzanne back out to the parking lot. Coach slides over to his vacant seat and asks the bartender for another beer before turning to Jack. “Even after all these years, I sometimes wonder why I married into this. There’s still time for you to get out.” He’s joking. Probably.

Jack smiles. “If anything, this weekend has made me more sure of everything. This day has been —” he searches for a word that won’t be too offensive to use in front of his future father-in-law.

“A shit show?”

“This whole day has been a shit show, but Bits — _Eric_ — and I handled it really well together.”

“You’re a team.”

“Yeah.”

“Suzie and I are a team. Had to be, raising a kid like Dicky in a town like ours. I know you know what I’m talking about when I say as long as your team has your back, you don’t need anyone else.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He slaps Jack on the back. “You’re a good man.” Jack thinks this might be the longest conversation they’ve ever had.

Bittle returns as his father is leaving and the two say their goodbyes. Once Coach is gone he turns toward Jack, one eyebrow raised. “What was that all about?”

“I think your dad just gave us his blessing.”

“Oh yeah?” He’s all smiles as Jack relates the conversation. “Only took six years.”

“My parents gave us their blessing the day I told them about you,” Jack admits, “so I guess it evens out.”

Bittle taps a card on the bar advertising a triple chocolate cake. “Want dessert?”

“Let’s get it to go.” Jack knows the cake will probably be some awful frozen thing that’s been reheated, and that Bittle will make fun of it, and that, more than anything, is why he says yes. They take their slice of cake and two forks back to the hotel and eat it on the bed. 

Bittle looks cute and comfortable in his socks and shorts and an old Falconers t-shirt he’s had since Jack’s rookie year. Jack is suddenly looking forward to whatever they’re going to do after dessert. “Promise me,” Bittle says between bites, “that when we get married we won’t do it at the Lazy Days Inn and Suites.” 

“Only if you promise not to leave me at the altar for a rodeo queen.” Jack scrapes some frosting off the side of the cake and pops it in his mouth.

“Pretty sure there’s no danger of that happening, honey. Stop taking all the frosting, that’s the best part.”

“Rodeo king? Rodeo clown? Rodeo anything?”

“I promise, Jack Zimmermann, that rodeo people will not be allowed within a hundred miles of our wedding.”

“What about this cake?” Jack asks, just because he knows it will set him off. “Should we serve this cake at ours?”

“Oh my lord, this cake. What is this _cake_ , Jack? I could do better blindfolded with one arm tied behind my back.”

“I know, bud.”

“ _You_ could do better.”

“Hey!”

“It tastes like somebody just slapped a bunch of frosting onto a dirty sponge and then put it in the deep freeze for a year.”

“That's oddly descriptive.” Jack stabs the last piece with his fork and feeds it to him.

“Why did we eat that whole thing?” Bittle wails. He dramatically falls back onto the bed. Jack sets the plate and forks on the nightstand and lies down next to him.

“This day was terrible,” Jack says.

“It was the _worst_.” Bittle rolls over onto his side. They’re forehead to forehead, just like they were when they woke up this morning.

“But kind of the best,” Jack says, voice lowered.

Bittle makes a dismissive noise.

“I’m serious, bud. Every day with you is a good day.”

“You are such a romantic, Mr. Zimmermann.”

“Technically, the day isn’t over yet. We have time to make it even better.”

“These walls are really thin.”

“Yeah? Everybody here already knows we’re — what did they call it? ‘Livin’ in sin?’ Let’s give them something to talk about until the next family wedding.”

Bittle giggles. “Stop talking, Mr. Zimmermann, and finish kissing me the way you started this morning.”

So Jack does, because Bittle’s hands are already doing _things_ and if they’re going to spend the night in a crappy hotel room, they might as well make the most of it.

Jack’s eyes are just drifting closed when Bittle snuggles into his side and makes a content little noise. This is Jack’s favorite way to fall asleep. They’re in an uncomfortable bed in a crappy hotel room but Bittle is warm and solid next to him. In the morning they'll sleep late and go for a run and have a big breakfast before they catch their flight back to Providence. And then, who knows. Their plane could get diverted to Alaska, or Tokyo. It doesn’t really matter what happens next, as long as they’re together.

“Love you, Sweetpea,” Bittle whispers.

Jack kisses the back of his neck and holds him closer. “Love you too, Bits.”


End file.
